Dirty Plates
by irradiation
Summary: Chapter 2 Uploaded. Kirk deals with his inner demons following the events of "Of Steaks, Salads and Medical Checkups." Something is bugging him so much, changing how he deals with the world, especially to his new first officer. PLEASE READ and REVIEW.
1. Chapter 1: Aftermath

**AUTHOR's NOTES**: Good morning everyone, and welcome to the first chapter of Dirty Plates. I had put loads of effort into this one so that you will be able to enjoy the yummy goodness of Kirk angst. Please relax and enjoy yourselves. I am thinking of updating this on a weekly basis. Reviews are welcome. This is going to take a much darker path than "Of Steaks, Slads and Medical Checkups, so brace yourselves. There won't be any yaoi, yuri, or slash in here, only canon pairings. Once again, reviews are very much welcome. Alerts are, too! :D

If you haven't read "Of Steaks, Salads and Medical Checkups," please do so. It will help explain why Kirk acts like this or like that.

**DIRTY PLATES**: _Aftermath _ ** PILOT** (Chapter 1)

* * *

"Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence."

Kirk felt a pang of pain as he remembered those words of McCoy. He still can't get over what happened last night. He didn't know if what he saw was real or his brain hallucinating from going cold turkey on steak. Time had flown quickly that night. Then, while walking to the mess hall to have his breakfast, he had heard of what happened to Sulu. He took some time off to visit him, and know what happened. The helmsman looked well, but apparently, he had lost a few pounds, judging by the gauntness compared his previously semi-hefty body. An intravenous patch was attached to his shoulder, and he was resting on a biobed. McCoy stated that Sulu was well; however, he still needed some time to recuperate. Kirk left a few energy bars from his stockpile, which he was saving from the rations they had on their missions. He thought that it would help. Emergency ration bars were addicting, and most of all, they stuffed three days' worth of protein in there. Kirk hoped it would help. He stayed only for a little while, claiming that he had to go check the damaged parts of the ship.

In reality, he was only trying to escape from the guilt he felt.

Kirk reprimanded himself, trying to justify his actions. _He only went there because Starfleet requested them to_. Telling this mantra to himself, he ignored the bugging of his conscience. He always thought he had the right to succeed. He believed a captain was infallible. He believed that all captains were always right.

Yesterday, he was proven wrong.

Suddenly, all the floodgates keeping his memories of days gone by away from scrutiny burst open, instilling new vigor in the pounding of his conscience. The guilt started choking his mind, clouding his vision a little. He started to recall and regret what he had done. He felt like vomiting, feeling disgusted by his actions. He felt like a thousand tons of something had been placed upon his shoulders. He remembered all his teachers, their monotonous voices lulling him to sleep, and then reproaching him for letting his eyes droop, telling him that the safety of a few thousand people lie in what they were discussing. Then they continued droning on about the extremely vaunted ideals Starfleet prides itself in its captains. Kirk couldn't care less about all those lectures that time. Now, those lessons haunted him like hunters cornering a small fox.

"_You wished for it! You wished for the damage to your own ship! And to top it off, you made someone sick just for a luxury!"_

Kirk recoiled at the sound of his own conscience screaming at him. He remembered seeing the ship he was currently in charge of in the empty fields of Iowa. He yearned to serve on that beautiful ship, its white metal and composite hull gleaming in the morning sun. He did everything to be included in the top class, to be eligible to serve in that ship, walking along its decks, and staring out its windows. Then, he wished for its pristine white hull be damaged, just for a bite of steak. He felt lacking. Immature. Unprepared. He was incompetent, easily swayed by his vices. He felt incompetent to serve, to handle the Enterprise. He thought of the other Spock, wondering how the alternate Kirk worked. Was he any better than him?

Was he better than his father?

He recalled that fateful night at the Shipyard bar, where after helping him with his bleeding nose, Pike recounted the first skirmish with the Narada. The incident that Pike invoked to make him join Starfleet inspired him to outdo his father, to keep all the crewmen aboard the Enterprise safe and sound. He wanted to outshine his father, to save more people from harm, to open new horizons for Starfleet and the Federation, and keep its constituents safe from harm, like what his father did to him and his mother. But, on his most recent mission, he failed. He failed to protect them.

He started prodding at the once-hot steak in front of him, now getting colder each passing moment. Kirk threw a short gaze on the roof of the extremely tidy mess hall, where micrometer-sized holes sucked in air to be filtered. The last few wisps of the steak's aroma were already disappearing into the air, to be cycled through the HVAC and life support systems of the Enterprise and distributed across the ship

"_Not unless that part of the ship has nonfunctioning life-support or is sealed off."_

Kirk pulled up the PADD beside him, opening the list of things to be done. He let his gaze slide over to the notices he had. The Enterprise was still undergoing repair, with the engineering crew spread all throughout the ship fixing the damage in that encounter. He sifted through the reports, letting his eyes fall to the status bar indicating how much of hull integrity was restored. The status bar flashed 95%. Kirk thought this was adequate enough, but it was still a pretty big number. Pulling the status bar upwards revealed a schematic of the Enterprise, showing the areas which suffered from a hull breach. Tiny red points slowly flashed on and off, indicating where the hull was penetrated. These areas were usually devoid of air, sealed from the rest of the ship by a translucent barrier. The Enterprise was riddled with these points, making her look like a dartboard in many bars back on Earth.

"_And it's your entire fault. You are too inept for the captaincy. You cannot even control yourself."_

Kirk wanted his mind to stop. He admitted that it was true. But it hurt. Hot as a branding iron, and faster than light, those words stung him to the heart. He showed that he was willing to risk someone for something as simple as a steak. He risked arrest just to save what his father treasured most. He risked someone's career and a possible expulsion from one of the most prestigious academies just to defeat its hardest simulation. _To augment his pride._

Kirk didn't know what to do. His daring maneuver with Sulu had made the helmsman very sick. The hostile planet left the Enterprise beat up, which was very reminiscent of its captain trying to court a lady in boots at the Shipyard bar. His body felt very sore, his conscience was raging like a mad gorilla and worse, he still had no clue. He was visibly disturbed by whatever was mentally plaguing him. His mind and his judgment was clouded by what happened yesterday with Sulu, and the scene he saw from the storage locker.

"Keptin Kirk, we need you on ze bridge."

The sudden announcement of Chekov interrupted Kirk's trainwreck of thought. He pressed the communicator on his lapel. The flashing green light on the metallic silver device steadied into a continuous one. "I'm coming." Kirk said, as he lifted the plateful of food and dumped it into the waste receptacle. Then he rushed to the cylindrical turbolift which led to the bridge, opened it, and entered. He thought of leaving the issue for later as the turbolift sped upward to the bridge

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER**: Repercussions

**A/N:** So there goes the first chapter of Dirty Plates! I hope you enjoyed reading through it! As I said, reviews are very much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2: Repercussions

Kirk woke up to the glow of the lights in his cabin. His room looked like a new day dawning on a war zone. The light of the sunshine alarm illuminated piles upon piles of used uniforms that were stockpiled upon a chair, used socks heaped up on top of a stack of manuals and paperwork scattered on the study area. Kirk studied the blue, red and orange gradient lighting the entire room. The sunshine alarm or using light to wake someone up was a Starfleet initiative to lessen grumpiness and stress among officers and crewmen. The lights simulated sunrise, which made waking up cause less consternation, unlike the alarm clocks of the past. Kirk mused about it as he browsed for a bathrobe, towels and a set of uniforms. The lights reverted back to the white used in the corridors, albeit a little dimmer and more yellowish. He entered the bathroom, closed the doors and started the shower.

Kirk's traditional refuge was the shower. Whether he was thinking of whatever he had to do for the day or patching up another wound from a bar fight, the shower offered him privacy, allowing him to alleviate whatever troubles he had for the day. As he took his shower however, the cold shower gave him no solace, however. Thoughts about what happened to Sulu, the Enterprise and the thing he saw invaded his mind, overcoming the sense of quietude he usually felt in the bathroom. His inner demons still plagued his self-argumentation. Kirk tried as much as possible to change the path his thoughts were taking. He didn't like the sound of it.

Finally, after much effort, his thoughts switched to his first officer. Spock resided in the other room; however, based on his self-proclaimed sensitive hearing, he wasn't there, having left early. According to the two or three percent of his thought process that was dedicated to logic, dozing off like what he usually does was extremely illogical. Fiddling with the controls, Kirk thought of entangling Spock in the complexities of human pranks, however, Kirk thought of the ramifications, like Spock choking him to death or Uhura berating him in a dozen different languages, involving Romulan and Klingon. Kirk grimaced at the thought. Although he was not a dedicated xenolinguist, Kirk was also conversationally proficient in the language of other worlds. And getting berated by a female in languages that he didn't know about would be humiliating.

Ending that undignified and embarassing train of thought completely, Kirk stepped out of the shower. He entered the cramped dressing room, he kept on thinking what words would Uhura choose to badger him with if he pursued his plan of pranking Spock. The fact that Uhura was going to do that for Spock slightly puzzled him, and gathering clues from his emotional states was nigh impossible. That guy would make an excellent statue, except that he would declare an attempt to do so on a hot and arid Vulcan day illogical and pointless. He wondered how his aloof and calculating first officer caught her attention; Spock wasn't exactly casanova material. But he thought of saving that mystery for later. As he finished dressing up, he took the PADD, examined the message and headed for the nearest exit, intent on making a dramatic entrance to the bridge.

Kirk thought of what words would he would use to brief the senior staff on their upcoming mission. Kirk could say that Scotty would be seriously disappointed. He wouldn't like the fact that the Enterprise would be assigned on a patrol mission, with continuous long-range scans and no action at all. As the doors to the turbolift opened, Kirk immediately entered the bridge.

"All senior officers, head to the briefing room. Chekov, ask someone to take the conn and the helm."

The eager Russian complied and sent for another officer to take over the conn, and its constant stream on information needed to make decisions and keep the ship on course. As the officers headed to the briefing room, some eager and some not so enthusiastic, he took a short stop to the captains' chair. Initiating a voice command, the computer uploaded the Starfleet order into the PADD he was holding and resumed his walk to the briefing room.

The briefing room of the Enterprise was a rectangular room, with a screen that projected a view of the outdoors. The ceiling was perforated, with a few translucent, non-perforated panels that gave light to whoever was briefing there. The seating and table plan was similar to a conference room, with seats for the senior officers and reserved seating for other diplomats, leaders and other captains who would want to have a discussion with the senior officers of the Federation flagship. The other senior officers were already seated, with Spock on the far side of the room. Chekov and a recuperating Sulu were talking, clearly speculating wildly about whatever he will discuss. He knew that it will be somewhat discontenting. But orders are orders. He threw a glance at Spock. He returned the favor, making eye contact with raised eyebrows. Kirk knew that Spock was curious of what he was thinking. The less he knew the better.

Kirk plopped the PADD he was holding in his place at the conference table. The view of the outside switched to the display of the slim, flexible tablet and the info contained within. A space station, reminiscent of Starbase One, however smaller and with less pylons appeared, surrounded by bright, twinkling lights. However, unlike Starbase One, it was definitely alone, out there somewhere in deep space.

"This is Deep Space Station K7," Kirk began, drawing a long breath. "This station provides supplies to the different colonies Starfleet and the Federation maintain around the Neutral Zone. This station is pretty valuable, hosting tons of quadrotriticale and other agricultural products, which the Federation uses to help maintain those colonies." Well aware of what these things meant, some of the other officers started to grumble, with Scotty at the frontlines. Patrolling meant that the engines needed more attention and more attention to the engines would mean less sleep time for them. Sulu and Chekov could chart a course for the Enterprise, leave it to the autopilot and assign other officers to do their tasks but for them, learning more about other species was fascinating and not having new ones within a hundred mile radius was boring. Kirk was indifferent to the reactions; he had been expecting them since he had received the transmission. The enigmatic officer of K7 apparently contacted the unscrupulous Admiral Fitzgerald, who was apparently not concerned about how the Federation flagship was assigned to such a menial task. Fitzgerald was notorious, even in the Academy, chastising cadets for something as simple as a Starfleet pin misaligned by a single degree. Kirk didn't like him much. Most of the other senior staff didn't like him much, too.

After letting the grumbling subside, Kirk resumed talking. "Our mission is to patrol K7 and the colonies, defend it and assure that the agricultural supplies are safe and sound. In return, we will be granted shore leave on K7 and the planets it supports." A few officers breathed sighs of relief. Having shore leave in dangerous times is quite a rare opportunity. Scotty wasn't so pleased. Shore leave was one thing, but his beloved warp engines were another. He still had to supervise a lot of stuff, since most of the engineering staff are just fresh from Starfleet Academy. And he wouldn't let go of the Enterprise and its pretty ample nacelles, as he himself put it.

The senior officers were dismissed, and they started to leave the conference room behind. Kirk pulled out the PADD and the screen defaulted back to the view of the outside. The officers started to work and prepare for the patrol. Some of the other officers started to leave and brief their departments, foremost among them being Scotty and McCoy. Chekov started to prepare the briefing for all the Enterprise, recoiling in frustration as his console yet again failed to recognize his heavily accented English. Sulu was trying to help him, taking over some of his other tasks, like charting the course the Enterprise will voyage on, while on the patrol. Uhura helped the ops guys make the schedule for shore leave so that everyone will get some time to rest. Kirk sat in the chair, obviously frustrated at whoever he was communicating with. Most of the idle crew on the bridge couldn't make what Kirk was saying, but they can hear the other guy crisply telling Kirk that they are too slow in preparing. This sent some of those slackers working in their stations, while other non-essential personnel left the bridge.

Kirk's sharp and clear voice rang across the bridge. "Sulu, is the course set?" The helmsman affirmed. "Go to warp. Let's roll."

The stars among the Enterprise became blurs as the ship swiftly lurched forward, leaving the area behind. Kirk reclined in the captain's chair. This was going to be a long day, he mused. He thought of helping the people from ops make the schedules for the patrol, or prod Uhura until she tried something rash. However, his stomach didn't like those ideas so much, grumbling at those thoughts. Kirk made up his mind.

He wanted some steak. A plateful of it, maybe.

* * *

THREE DAYS LATER

Uhura poked around the marketplace of the Federation colony. Unlike the controlled environment of the Enterprise, the marketplace was open air. The sun was pretty hot, bearing down on the people crowding in the stalls looking for a bargain and the sellers who had to tend to their stores all day long. Trees surrounded the marketplace; however, these were not enough to block the heat from the sun.

She couldn't stop looking at the different contents of the stalls. Taking her credit chip, she went to the food stalls, trying to buy something to eat and drink. The sun was already taking its toll on her, and she hadn't eaten much on the Enterprise for breakfast. She remembered eating a sandwich and some water, expecting that she won't take long. However, being attracted and fascinated at all the artifacts and souvenirs around her, she didn't take a break. Uhura decided to opt for something that would fill her up pretty well. Taking some water with her, Uhura started to explore again, looking for different trinkets to give to the Enterprise crew, to her relatives back home, and something for Spock.

Looking around, she found a beautiful amulet, which she haggled for with the seller. The stout, blank and straightforward vendor declined her attempts at getting the copper-colored amulet at a lower price; however, she tried using some of her appeal to reverse the vendor's decision. The vendor agreed, and Uhura placed the amulet in the bag she was carrying. She thought that the copper-colored amulet would fit Spock well. She continued her attempts looking for something for her relatives, friends and Kirk. The sun went even higher up the sky, bathing the market in even more heat. The vendors shifted uncomfortably, obviously looking for a way to shade themselves from the hot sun. Uhura tried to find some shade, too. Looking for somewhere that was fully covered, she met a trader also looking for shade. The man was somewhat plump, with curled blonde hair that was not that thick. He was wearing a green dress that made him look somewhat like a goblin, and a demeanor that was somewhat friendly and amicable. From his looks, Uhura guessed that the guy was a peddler. Uhura knew that peddlers always carried the best deals and maybe this peddler carried something that would cut a few hours short of her time.

The trader greeted and introduced himself as Cyrano Jones and Uhura reciprocated the gesture. He opened the large trunk he was carrying. Gems with red hues flashed in the hot midday sun, and different strange artifacts greeted Uhura's sight as she scanned the contents of the trunk. There were some artifacts that interested her, like the glowing green water he saw beside the gems. Below that, he saw a few balls of fur that seemed to move. Taking one of the little furballs into her arm, she stared at it. The creature emitted a soft coo which attracted Uhura. She asked what it was.

Uhura was definitely thankful for Cyrano Jones' kindness. Although she wanted to buy something for Kirk and the others, she liked the little furball more. Cuddling the cute creature into her hands, Uhura tried to remember what Cyrano called it.

She remembered him calling it a tribble.


End file.
